


Can't Have Your Cake II (the bakening)

by Miramise



Series: I Get By with a Little Help from My Friends [7]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Implied spanking, M/M, Multi, no beta we die like men, sort of not really spanking, towel snapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miramise/pseuds/Miramise
Summary: Sequel toCan't Have Your Cake (trust me, you don't want it), Leon has been tasked with teaching Chris how to bake a cake from a mix.  Not exactly the lazy day Chris had planned.  Also, all towels are evil, and nobody can convince Chris otherwise.





	Can't Have Your Cake II (the bakening)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanity_TV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanity_TV/gifts).

> Unlike previous instalments in this series, it's best to read the previous fic before this one, or you might get a little lost.
> 
> Sorry this took so long, Sanity_TV. Hope you like it!

It was peaceful for once. He had the week off. No missions on the horizon. If one were to ask, Chris would say life at the moment was perfect, and he had plans to take advantage of that. One of those plans being to sleep in for once. He thought Leon could get behind the idea and reached over towards the blond's side of the bed in the hopes of convincing him of that.

So Chris felt it rude when his hand encountered cold sheets.

The captain groaned and pried one bleary eye open. He barely managed to get his vision to focus when he had a second rudeness inflicted on his person.

_"UP AND AT 'EM, REDFIELD!"_

"GAH!" Chris flailed and toppled right off his side of the bed. Half of his wanted to reach for his gun, the other wanting to punch the hell out of something, soon as he could figure out what the something should be. Amidst a tangle of sheets, he noticed two house slippers in his view. They happened to cover a pair of feet, attached to familiar, now jean-clad legs. His eyes continued to travel up, irritation growing until they landed on the smirking face of his lover.

It was the punchable smirk. Chris wasn't sure he could resist the urge.

"Leon. Want to tell me why you decided to test your lung capacity and deprive me of a morning in?"

"Yup. Revenge."

The sheer unrepentant look only fueled the captain's ire. Yes, revenge sounded very good right now.

"I'll be more than happy to exact revenge, but that still doesn't explain—"

"Sherry's kitchen."

All the fight left Chris, replaced with a bone-deep mortification. Yes, okay, he deserved it. He, Helena and Jake—_especially_ Jake—had no business in the kitchen. And it was both embarrassing and a bit of a let down that he couldn't do something as simple as follow the instructions on a box of cake mix. (Though to be fair, the second cake failure was entirely on Jake. Chris and Helena both agreed on that one.)

"Okay, message received," the brunet huffed. "And I already helped with cleaning up and setting her kitchen back to the way it was. So can I go back to sleep?"

"Not a chance." Leon reached down and hauled Chris to his feet. He took a quick, appreciative look as the sheets fell to show off Chris's habit of sleeping nude. "Nice. Now go take a shower. We have a lesson to get to."

That didn't sound like anything good, and certainly not relaxing. "What _kind_ of lesson?" Chris asked, dreading the answer.

Leon tilted his head a little, right bangs just covering his eye, a small—dare Chris say, _cute_—quirk of his lips.

"What else? Remedial cooking lessons."

Chris groaned.

( //-^)—Ѽ (=_= )

The groan increased exponentially when he saw the kitchen.

"Leon, this is cruel, even for you."

"You want to make a cake, you learn how to make a cake," Leon told him, "with proper supervision. I don't want to deal with another disaster like that again." He grabbed Chris by the wrist and dragged the mumbling captain to the kitchen island. "And really, it was a _box mix_. I can see making a mediocre cake or maybe mixing up the amount of the ingredients a little, but that's no excuse for the murder scene you three had going on." On the counter were two measuring cups, a pitcher of water, a bottle of vegetable oil, three eggs, a small bowl, a larger mixing bowl, and a hand mixer. There was also a pad of sticky notes, and Chris didn't want to think about how those were going to come into play.

"First things first." Leon went to the sink and washed his hands. As he dried them, he nodded for Chris to do the same. The captain was still muttering under his breath as he did as told, completely unprepared for the towel snapped hard on his ass. He shouted and jumped a foot in the air before turning to glare at his grinning lover. "I swear to god I'm going to—"

"Every time you do something wrong, you're getting toweled," Leon cut him off. "Be glad that's all I'm doing. Sherry wanted a fifty swat spanking for all three of you, in front of witnesses." Seeing Chris's horrified look pulled a soft chuckle from the blond. "Claire and I talked her out of it. I think Helena took ten and Claire enrolled her in a class at a community college for a semester. I promised Sherry I'd have you make a box mix cake the right way."

Hell, he was stuck. "What about Jake?" If anyone should suffer some kind of consequence, Chris felt certain Jake was at the top of the list.

"I think he's still laying on his stomach; Sherry didn't spare the paddle. Piers said it was a popcorn worthy performance, and he has more respect for her right hand than ever before."

And oh, did that leave the brunet wincing. The only thing Chris could think was, 'ow'.

"Anyway, let's get started, shall we?" Leon pointed to the eggs. "We are going to carefully crack those into the smaller bowl. You do _not_ want shells in there, no matter what Helena thinks about them being a good source of calcium."

"...they're not?"

The loud yelp echoed from the kitchen hinted that it might be a long lesson for both of them.

( //-^)—Ѽ Ὠ—(=_= )

"Isn't this cup a cup, too?" Chris held up a dry cup measure. "Why do we have to use the other ones when these are easier to work with?"

Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. "One more time, those are for _dry_ measurements. You want to use the other ones for _wet_ measurements."

"...so if I wet the dry stuff first, could I—"

>_**snap**_<

Sometimes there was such a thing as stupid questions, as Leon was coming to find out.

~~~

"I still don't think three eggs is enough—no, not the towel! I'm telling you, my mom used six eggs! I saw her! I counted! She had me count when I'd help her!" Chris curled his hand, ready to grab that towel if Leon tried it this time. There was no way he was wrong this time. Mom Redfield used six, and that was the right thing to do far as Chris was concerned."

Leon rolled his eyes upward. "Why me?" He looked back at Chris, opened his mouth, then promptly shut it as an idea came to him. "Was Claire with you? Does she remember how your mom made cakes?"

"Yes." The captain's face scrunched up in confusion, "What does that have to do with—"

"Just give me a sec." Leon jogged out the kitchen, coming back a minute later with his phone in hand. "Okay, if you're _right_, I will let you hit me with the towel." A single brow raised at Chris's blooming grin. "_However_, if you're _wrong_, you're getting three of them."

He was right. Chris knew he was right. And swinging that towel against Leon for once was going to feel terrific. "Fine," he agreed.

Leon snorted as he hit Claire's name on his list. He started talking soon as she answered at the second ring. "Hey, Claire. We're having a disagreement about the number of eggs a mix calls for. Your brother is insisting it's six since that's how many your mom used." He went silent, listening for a few moments before handing the phone to Chris. "She has something to tell you."

Chris nearly snatched the phone from Leon's hand. "Claire, I know for a fact—"

"Mom was making pound cakes from scratch and never used a box mix." Her words stopped Chris cold. "And you'll always need more eggs when you're making it from scratch."

Brown eyes darted over to where Leon hummed while swinging the towel idly around. "Never used a box mix? Not even once?"

"She said something in the mix made Dad sick, so she never used them," the younger Redfield confirmed.

Well, that sucked. "Um, th-thanks." Chris hung up the phone and handed it back to Leon, then turned around to let his backside face the blond.

He was beginning to feel even more empathetic to Jake's plight when the first snap hit its mark.

~~~

None of this sounded right to Chris. "The paper will burn." He ignored the way Leon rubbed at his own temples. "I'm telling you, the paper will burn."

"It's parchment paper," Leon grunted, idly wondering why the universe had it out for him, and how many goats he could sacrifice to fix it. "It's meant to go in the oven—"

"An electric one, maybe, but you insisted you had to have a gas oven, and I'm telling you it's gonna burn the paper.

If it were just this one thing, Leon would patiently explain how the fire would never come in contact with the paper. He would show Chris how the paper was meant to be used in this way. The agent might even go so far as to call the company and have them explain it, too.

Sadly, Leon's patience died around when they had to start over with a new mix because Chris thought they meant a third of the measuring cup itself instead of just one-third cup.

There was only one answer he felt confident in giving.

"Get that damn batter on that paper-lined pan or I will make sure Jake has company in the 'not sitting down anytime soon' column."

The mixing bowl was emptied immediately into the pan. Leon's breath left him in a small gust as he watched Chris slide the pan in the oven. Finally, this was almost over.

"...paper's gonna burn."

>_**snap**_<

~~~

Frosting the cake was surprisingly easy for both them and for Chris's throbbing rear end. The captain found he actually enjoyed it, and Leon just liked the fact that it went off without any more problems.

"I don't think I like the baking part so much, but decorating's pretty fun," Chris confessed as he finished the border.

"Some bakeries work that way, where some focus on the cake part, and others the decorating." Leon glanced over at the cake and nodded his approval. "You have a steady hand. Maybe I'll show you some other techniques and you can take over the decorating."

"Really?" Chris made sure to keep his face turned away so Leon wouldn't see the flush creeping up his neck and over his ears. "I mean, you'd let me back in a kitchen and actually help you?" He blinked when he felt fingers catch his chin and gently turn his head until he's staring into happy blue eyes.

"Way I see it, if you're helping me, I can still keep an eye on you. And we get to spend time together. A win-win situation from where I'm standing." Leon's free hand scooped a little frosting on his finger and dabbed Chris's lips with it before closing the few inches between them to plant a soft kiss there. "What do you think?"

Chris licked the remaining frosting from his lips, then smiled at his mischievous boyfriend. "I think I can get behind that."

"So many ways to answer that," Leon chuckled. He looked at the finished cake and sighed. "I don't feel like eating anything sweet right now, though. And I don't know if we can get through this before it goes off."

The captain silently agreed. He wasn't the biggest fan of sweets, just enjoying them occasionally. Leon could really put the desserts away when he wanted to, but Chris was pretty sure the agent was just sick of any cake-related foods at the moment. Then inspiration struck.

"Do we have any red food colouring and any more white frosting left?" Chris asked.

The slight non-sequitur threw Leon off. "Yeah? What are you planning, Redfield? Because we're _not_ having any disasters here."

Chris held his hands up. "Nothing bad, I swear!" He grinned and gestured towards the cake. "Everyone at Sherry's has a sweet tooth, though. We can give it to them. I just wanted to pipe a message on it first."

That seemed reasonable. Still, Leon felt the need to point out, "We didn't get into writing, but it's not much different. It helps if you use a toothpick or knife to draw in the frosting first."

"Like this?" Chris grabbed a toothpick from the counter and quickly wrote out a message. Leon read it, blinked, then fell against his boyfriend as he cracked up.

"That's fucking priceless. Definitely, let's do that and give it to them." Leon forced himself to calm down, the occasional snicker still escaping him. "Jake's going to kill you."

"He can try." The captain watched as Leon prepped a batch of white frosting, colouring it pink. He looked at the piping bag with leftover chocolate frosting. "What do with do with this, though?"

The blond smiled when he saw what Chris was pointing to. "Well, I can answer that depending on how fast you want to get this cake to them."

"Huh? What would that have to do with—" The captain felt all the moisture leave his mouth when Leon casually picked up the bag and deliberately sucked the tip between his lips, eyes never leaving Chris's face. Leon pulled the bag away just as slowly, making a soft kissing noise when it was free.

"Like I said, depends on if you want to get the cake to them right away, or if it can wait a bit." Leon rolled the tip of his tongue out and squeezed a perfect star shape there. He leaned forward and licked Chris's lips, leaving some of the frosting behind. "Well?"

Chris stared at Leon first, glanced at the cake, then back to Leon. "Fuck it, the cake won't go anywhere." He snatched the blond up in a bridal carry and ran for the bedroom, Leon cackling all the way, piping bag held high.

( //-^) Ѽ—(^-^ )

Jake's groans were heard all through the house. Piers though that skill slightly impressive, given the size of said house.

"I'm never going to sit up again. All abilities to sit are gone. No more sitting. I'm gonna have to wear diapers and have some overworked nurse come in and clean my ass because going to the bathroom is out. All because you wouldn't defend me, Solo."

Piers snorted, more than use to Jake's brand of humour now. "You expected me to get in between you and a paddle wielding Sherry? You're crazier than I thought, and trust me, I think you're pretty damn nuts on a good day." The brunet moved to sit on the couch, helping Jake to adjust so he could rest his head in Piers's lap.

"You could have distracted her while I made a run for it," Jake complained. "Seriously, I don't know if this relationship will work if you can't even take one for the team."

"One, a team of one person is not a team. Two, you said the same thing when you had to be Leon's gopher for a week after ruining his wok, so I'm not too worried about that. Three, unlike you, I enjoy things like sitting down, and generally being alive, so I don't antagonise the short, scary woman we live with."

Jake couldn't hide his grin as one hand draped itself over Piers's thigh. "Gotta keep her on her toes, y'know?" His fingers made idly patterns along the denim covering his boyfriend's thighs. Such nice thighs they were. At least Jake thought so. And since he knew Sherry agreed with him, those where the only opinions that mattered.

The owner of those thighs snorted. "You keep her on her toes, and she keeps you from sitting on your butt."

There was no arguing that. Jake shifted to grin up at Piers. "...worth it."

That earned a huff as Piers just pushed Jake back down. They both paused when they heard muffled giggling. Sherry walked in a few moments later, a cake in her hands and trying not to laugh.

"What's up, supergirl?" Jake moved to sit up, winced, and immediately nixed that idea. _'Stupid paddles.'_

"Leon taught Chris to bake a cake. Turns out Chris liked the decorating part more." Both men looked on in confusion as Sherry tried to keep a straight face. "Leon didn't think they could eat this themselves and dropped it off for us. Chris decorated it." Unable to say more, Sherry placed the cake on the coffee table in front of Piers and Jake. When they read it, Piers collapsed back on the couch and slapped a hand to his mouth, barely muffling the mad cackles leaving him. Jake glared at the cake, curling one hand into a loose fist.

"I'm killing bigger field next time I see him." His butt throbbed, leaving the redhead to groan and let his face rest against Piers's legs. "Fuck my life."

♡


End file.
